


A Father's Worry

by DaydreamersMedicine



Category: A Time To Kill - John Grisham
Genre: Gen, Like I wrote this for school, No one will read this probably, School Fanfic??, but it's a finished THING, gen - Freeform, more than... 6 years ago., so I guess that's enough of an excuse to upload it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 12:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19019716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaydreamersMedicine/pseuds/DaydreamersMedicine
Summary: A sort of interlude chapter around chapter 37-39 of the book. I totally wrote this for school back in like 2014. I'm just kinda uploading it for the heck of it. It's technically a kind of fanfiction. Have at it.





	A Father's Worry

**Author's Note:**

> I've uploaded an ancient school assignment to the internet while cleaning out my dropbox. Yes, really. 
> 
> Got a whole bonus point for it back in the day, the teacher really liked it.

Sheldon Roark entered the firm and glanced at the television screen in the reception area for a moment. A frown crossed his face briefly at the short clip of a big trial happening in the otherwise unknown town of Clanton, Mississippi. There was a shot of the young lawyer, Mr. Brigance, walking into the courthouse with a shouting crowd of whites to his left and blacks to his right. A younger woman with reddish-brown hair the same shade as his in a neatly pressed suit was walking beside him, her briefcase no doubt overflowing with carefully typed research notes. She was his daughter, Ellen Roark. As a sort of summer project she had decided to follow the case in Clanton, which had exploded in controversy soon afterward. He shook his head lightly, she wasn’t a little girl anymore, and there wasn’t much he could have said to stop her, even if the news grew more alarming with each passing day. He was proud of her for going after a high-profile case like this. It would be good experience for her when she finished school and started practicing with her own law degree.

“Good morning, Mr. Roark.” His secretary, Amelia, smiled at him. She was a practical looking woman who had worked as a secretary for many lawyers in her time.

“Good morning. What’s my schedule for today?” He started pouring two cups of coffee, and offered one to her with a pack of sugar. He didn’t take a sugar packet for himself. She opened the packet and poured the crystals into the paper cup and stirred. It tasted like crap whether or not he put cream and sugar in it, so he often didn’t even bother.

“The civil case with Mr. Lawrence, he’ll be coming in for a consultation with you at eleven.” He sighed deeply. David Lawrence was younger than most of his clients, but he had deep pockets. His father was a well-known politician in the city, and the boy had decided to sue for some minor injustice to him on the part of a small marketing company that didn’t stand a chance. But there was money in the case, no matter how much it made his stomach turn, and he owed the boy’s father a favor.

“Any other calls?” He asked hopefully. Amelia shook her head. He thanked her and continued on to his office.

He glanced at the clock. His client would arrive soon, and he would discuss his strategy, which mostly involved instructing him on when to not open his mouth in the courtroom. On cue, the door opened and his David Lawrence walked in. He had a sharp, angular face and hard grey eyes that shifted around too much for his liking. It was common knowledge that he planned to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a politician, but he was much less likable. His father at least had the courtesy to hide his obvious disdain for others, but one thing David hadn’t inherited from his father was charisma. His clothes were all obviously expensive and tailored impeccably.

“Mr. Roark, my father told me you were trustworthy enough for my case, I hope he wasn’t wrong.” He resisted the urge to say something sarcastic. Civil cases were unspeakably dull, and if he had a choice in the matter he would have liked to have the firm’s security drop David on the nearest curb. It would help teach the boy some humility. “I hope we can get this over with quickly. I am a busy man.” Still, Sheldon Roark was a professional.

“We all are.” He smiled and shook hands with his client and closed the door.

\--------------------------------------

After lunch he spent the afternoon organizing case files and making sure his impressive collection of law books showed not one speck of dust. The phone was unusually silent. Normally Ellen would call him and ask how his day was going and give him exciting updates on the case she was helping with. During school she normally called occasionally, but since the case had as much attention as it did, he had asked her to stay in touch. It seemed every day something big was happening there, people marching, crosses burning, and reporters swarming around everything. It had been a long time since he had gotten a good exciting case like that, something that made the people’s blood boil.

But Ellen hadn’t called him today, or yesterday for that matter. He started counting the days it had been since he had gotten word from his daughter. He had been trying to keep an eye on the news, but Mississippi was far enough away that the news that trickled up north was scarce at best. Something big was happening down south, and it made him uneasy.

For the moment he put his daughter out of his mind. His civil case was a good deal more boring than the exciting murder trial down in Mississippi, but it would pay the bills and leave some left over. He started on a stack of papers he had picked out to read over. An afternoon of good old-fashioned research would put his obnoxious client out of his mind.

\--------------------------------------

He was woken up in the middle of the night by the phone ringing. Sheldon groaned, the ringing sounded impossibly loud after the stillness and silence of the sleeping house. He groped blindly in the dark for the light switch and the phone. After a second of fumbling around in the dark he picked it up the call.

“Hello?” He asked.

“Is this Sheldon Roark?” The voice was male with a noticeable southern accent, pronouncing his last name with two syllables.

“I am.” He sat up and blinked, trying to wake up. “Why are you calling me at this ungodly hour?” The man on the other end of the line hesitated.

“I’m sorry sir… I’m a doctor from Ford County, Mississippi.” Suddenly, he was very awake. “About a day ago a young woman who has been identified as Ellen Roark was found out by the road, beaten badly. She’s was taken to the hospital. She had ID on her and we looked up your number.” His knuckles were white, gripping the phone hard enough to shake in anger.

“Who did this?” He demanded.

“The police suspect it was the KKK, they’ve been threatening Mr. Hailey’s lawyer and anyone who’s associated with him for the past few weeks.” It was like waking up and listening to a bad dream. “We don’t have a lot of details right now; she hasn’t been responsive for several hours. We wanted to call any family we could find.”

“…I appreciate it.” He finally said. He hung up and ran a hand over his face, shaking with cold terror. He thought of the last time he had actually visited his daughter. He thought of her confident grin, sharp intelligent eyes the same color as her mother’s, and her red hair pulled up in a ponytail. He couldn’t imagine the kind of monster who would hurt his little girl, couldn’t understand it. Even if she was an adult now, she would always be his baby girl. For a second he almost understood why some of his clients murdered. He called his secretary.

“Cancel everything.”

“Wha…Mr. Roark—? Do you have any idea what time it is?” Amelia snapped.

“Yes, I do. Cancel all my appointments. I need to get to Mississippi right now.”

“But Mr. Lawrence will—”

“I don’t care. Cancel it and tell him what I think of his slimy son for all I care.” He slammed the phone down and got dressed. He hurriedly packed a luggage with the bare necessities and called the airport.

\--------------------------------------

As soon as he got into town he asked for directions to the hospital. Needs like a hot meal or a hotel to stay the night could come later. He needed to see his daughter was alright before he could even think about those things. Sheldon Roark looked jet-lagged and haggard from the seven-hour flight.

“I’m Sheldon Roark. I need to see my daughter, Ellen.” The nurse nodded quickly, flashing him a pitying look as she jogged to get the doctor. When they returned Mr. Roark was easy to pick out in the waiting room. Ellen’s doctor called him back to talk about her condition, which had improved somewhat since he had called him last night, but she was still unconscious and couldn’t tell them exactly what happened. The doctor was worried about the concussion she had received, it might cause swelling in her brain, which could cause severe brain damage or death if not treated. He explained that he was going to take a few x-rays once her condition stabilized to assess the damage, since to relieve pressure on the skull would require serious surgery.

He feared the worst. Unwilling to leave he stayed the night on a few chairs set up outside her room while nurses and patient techs walked in and out monitoring her and checking her vitals every hour. Her doctor would look down at her chart and talk to the nurses, then leave. In a courtroom he was the master of his domain, but when his daughter was lying beaten and bloody in the hospital he felt as helpless as any other man. Helpless but to wait for the verdict God would give him on his daughter’s life.

Finally the doctor was satisfied with his tests. He could have been waiting hours or days.

“Her concussion isn’t as severe as we first thought, and her condition has stabilized during the past few hours.” He explained. “She’ll probably be healthy enough for visitors tomorrow.” The doctor patted him on the shoulder kindly. “Now, sir, I’d recommend you get some rest before you wind up a patient here.”

He agreed.

\--------------------------------------

Her auburn hair stuck out in choppy tufts on her head, and bandages had been placed over several cuts and bruises on her. There were some ugly stitches on the side of her head and a little dried blood. But she was awake and at last, and she was going to be okay.

“…Dad?” She seemed a little surprised. “I can’t believe you came all the way to Mississippi.”

“I hope you know your old man better than that.” He sat next to her bedside. “You scared the hell out of me these past few days.” She nodded.

“Oh yeah.” She laughed dryly. “But don’t you work like a responsible adult?” She managed some light sarcasm.

“We both know you’re the responsible one.”

“I’m going to ask those white-robed bigots for a refund on this haircut.” He cracked a smile; if she was feeling good enough to joke she would be alright. She looked a little out of it, and definitely worse for wear, but he could confirm with his own eyes that she was okay. He found himself breathing a sigh of relief.

“That’s my Ellie.” He smiled.

“Don’t call me that around my boss. My haircut is embarrassing enough.” She smiled back. “I’m glad you’re here.” Her smile faded slightly. “You didn’t miss out on any important cases for this did you?”

“A senator’s son wanted to sue, but I didn’t like him much anyway. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He asked her if she was tired, but she had slept enough the previous few days, and wanted to catch up.

They spent most of the night talking about the trial and everything that had happened the past few days. She was somewhat reluctant to talk about the KKK members who kidnapped her and left her in the woods, and she had no memory of how the police came to find her. It had been an anonymous tip, probably a mole from within the Klan, that had alerted the authorities and saved her life. She asked him if he would have killed them like Carl Lee if anything worse had happened.

That was one question, he told her, that he wouldn’t answer.


End file.
